


Life on the Murder Scene

by newnamesononeofmyfriendsknowme



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newnamesononeofmyfriendsknowme/pseuds/newnamesononeofmyfriendsknowme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Location: Unknown forest in California<br/>Year: 2019<br/>It happened so quickly. Nobody ever thought that it would be possible. Now, 4/5ths of the worlds population are reanimated corpses, and the other 1/5th are dying out quickly. Loved ones are gone, friendships are ruined, and those who were once respectable have resorted to primitive forms of survival. It is an all around disaster, and a group of old friends must fight their way to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

**IN CASE OF A ZOMBIE** **APOCALYPSE**

The CDC would like to offer several tips to help survive the biological apocalypse.

  1. Fallout shelters will offer shelter to those who look for it. In the case of an outbreak inside these shelters, they will shut down, and will not reopen.
  2. It is advised that you keep a steady supply of food and water.
  3. **DO NOT** hunt for animals in the wild. There is a possibility that the animals are carrying the infection, and may be able to spread it.
  4. Stay near civilization.....

* * *




 

            It had been sheer luck that Pete and Patrick found the countryside mansion in the middle of fucking nowhere. Walking through the woods for hours on end paid off once the reached the towering house, completely vacant and cut off from civilization. Pete gave Patrick the “I told you so” look as they approached the house, as it was Patrick who had been bitching and moaning about walking through the forest completely unarmed.

            “You so owe me one.” Pete said, attempting to open the door. “I think we found our safe haven here.”

            “Maybe.” Patrick said, absentmindedly. He was nervously glancing around, scanning the surroundings for zombies or animals, or even worse, people. At least they could hold off the zombies. A group of armed people who wanted this house just as bad as the two of them did would mean a lot of trouble.

            Before long, Pete had picked the lock, and the smell of old firewood and pine trees drifted in from the house. Pete didn’t hesitate in going in, and Patrick gingerly followed. This place was too good to be true. “Lock and barricade.” Pete directed. It was never a bad idea to take precautions.

            Patrick inhaled deeply, examining their new possible home. It was a large log cabin, made entirely from polished wood. The living room ceiling reached up at least 20 feet, with a glass chandelier dangling from it. A set of couches and chairs surrounded a large flat screen television that Pete was fiddling with. Everything seemed to be made of wood, from the coffee table to the statues that decorated the room. A large fireplace covered one of the walls, with more chairs around it. A pair of moose, or maybe deer, antlers adorned the wall above it. It was a hunters dream.

            The living room opened up into an equally large kitchen and dining room. Patrick drifted off into this area, desperate to find something to eat. A fine layer of dust had settled on everything, and it was clear that nobody had been here in a few months. Probably even longer than when the zombies came. Rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, Patrick managed to find some canned goods. There were several cans of fruits and vegetables, some beans, and some soup. It wasn’t much, but every little bit was important.

            “Hey, Patrick! Come check this out!” Pete called from the living room. Patrick rushed back in, to find Pete, grinning from ear to ear next to the television, which was now playing some old movie. “I got it to work!” He beamed. “The people who lived here had a fantastic movie collection!” Pete pointed to a glass cabinet that held at least 100 movies. Patrick began looking through it, occasionally pulling out a disk to watch later.

            “Do you think anyone has been living here since the start?” Patrick asked, studying the once occupied house. It was strange that there was so much here for a house that was completely vacant.

            “Maybe it’s a vacation house?” Pete suggested. “I mean, this place is pretty far out of the way, there’s no way people are living here 24/7.”

            “Yeah. That makes sense.” It was better than thinking that the owners of the house were undead and walking around, or still living here and are just momentarily out.

            “How did you get the TV to work anyways?” Patrick asked, changing the topic. They were in an abandoned house in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. He was pretty sure that no one was paying the electric bills for this place.

            “I think there’s a generator or something running somewhere.” Pete guessed.

            “Doesn’t it need gas though?”

            “Maybe it hasn’t been used in a long time, so it still has some left over.”

            “Maybe. But that still means we’d have to get some more for it to continue working.”

            “Let’s try and find it first and see how much it needs.”

            The two men split up in order to search for the source of the power. Patrick agreed to look outside, and Pete took the inside. The air outside was cold compared to the inside of the house. This place had electricity _and_ heat. What other surprises were there?

            Patrick began to examine the exterior of the house, keeping an eye out for anything that looked vaguely like a generator. There were flowerbeds and trees bearing fruits scattered about the place. It would’ve been peaceful, maybe even pleasant, had it not been for the zombie carcass that had crushed a rose bush lying nearby. Patrick recoiled at the smell, making a mental note to stay away from this area.

            Eventually, he had made his way into the backyard. The backyard was about twice as big as the house itself. Bright green grass coated small hills that ran through it. A large pool sat at one end, while a kid’s play set was at the other. Other outdoor playthings were scattered around, from trampolines to soccer goals. Fucking hell, whoever lived here must’ve been loaded. Patrick walked through the yard, sticking close to the house. It was clear there was no generator somewhere in the yard, and it could be dangerous to go too far.

            He continued walking until a loud whirring noise caught his attention. Next to the (surprisingly) wooden deck was a large, silver, generator. The thing looked so complex, and it would be near impossible for Patrick to figure out how to work it. Hell, he could barely manage to use a computer without fucking everything up. He began to examine it, searching for some way to tell how much gas it had left, and where to put any in at all. This yielded no results.

            Eventually, Patrick figured that the best idea was to get Pete. He might know what to do. “Hey Pete!” He called into the house. “I found the generator!”

            “Awesome!” He heard Pete yell back down. His voice was muffled, as if he were behind several sets of closed doors. “Before we check it out, come up here!”

            Patrick obliged, heading up the staircase. Each step creaked dangerously. Patrick wondered how old the house must be. When he reached the top of the staircase, he was confronted by about 10 different doors, and no idea which one Pete was behind. “Where are you?” He asked into the empty hallway.

            “In here.” Pete replied.

            “Like that fucking helps.” Patrick said sarcastically. “I mean which room are you in?”

            “Umm… third door on the left, I think.”

            “Why don’t you just come out?”

            “Oh, yeah. I forgot that could done.” Contrary to what Pete had just said, he stepped out of the fourth door on the right. “So you gonna come in?”

            “Sure, but what’s in there?”

            “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

            Pete stepped back into the room, and Patrick followed in. A quick glance around the room told him that the place was a young boy’s bedroom. The walls were painted a dark blue, and there were stick on stars on the ceiling. Posters from sports teams hung on the walls, and a radio player sat on the dresser. Currently, Pete was playing some Ramones songs. This definitely wasn’t a vacation house. There was too much shit in this place for someone to just leave it here for the majority of the year.

            “S’pretty sweet in here, isn’t it?” Pete said, walking over to a cardboard box in the floor. Patrick was confused at what was so interesting about a teenage boys room until he looked into the cardboard box. The whole thing was stacked full of comics, ranging from Spiderman to the, how ironic, Walking Dead. Pete yanked out a copy of one of the early Batman comics and began to look through it.

            “There must be at least 500 comics in here.” Patrick remarked, digging through it. “We found the mother lode!” The two of them continued to sit on the floor, listening to The Ramones and reading comics. It was almost as if there was never a zombie apocalypse at all.

            Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Pete had gone out to check the generator, leaving Patrick the task of zombie/people proofing the house. If they were going to stay here, they had to make sure that it was a safe place to live. It would be nice not to have to have someone staying awake all night to keep watch, and the only way to do that was to make sure that nothing could get into the house.

            Despite the fact that everything in the fucking house seemed to be made out of wood, there were no spare planks lying anywhere. Not even in the basement. Patrick had several options. He could go out into the forest and chop some trees down (a very terrible idea in his opinion), he could dismantle some of the useless pieces of furniture (a much better option), or he could continue to search the house, praying to find something. He decided to go with option number 3, leaving option 2 as a backup plan.

            Contrasting the nice, bright, airy space of the first and second floors, the basement was a nightmare. It was nearly pitch black, with only a thin beam of light coming in through the doorway, and Patrick nearly fell down the stairs several times. He held his hand against the wall, dragging it around in order to find a light switch. Once he reached the bottom, he located the switch, turning on the fluorescent lights. “What a horrible place for a light switch.” Patrick muttered to himself, wondering why it wasn’t at the top of the staircase where the visibility was the best.

            Everything was now bathed in a manufactured, white light. The basement was much smaller than the rest of the house, and only had three rooms. There was a dismal looking study through one door, with an ancient looking Macintosh computer and a bookshelf that held gigantic novels, a playroom with foosball tables, video games, and even more, and a workroom. Patrick walked into the playroom, staring at the old children’s toys. It pained him to think that kids once lived here, and were now possibly undead monsters.

            The workroom was much more useful, and Patrick found himself grabbing an armful of tools. Some for taking zombies heads off, and some for fortifying the house. Surprisingly, there was still no wood. He held a box of nails and screws between his teeth and began to make the perilous trek back up the staircase. A fallen screwdriver hit his foot, leaving Patrick cursing and dropping more shit in turn. He would have to come back for that stuff.

            He dumped all of the shit on the counter and grabbed a hammer. He figured it was a good idea to carry a weapon with him if he was going back outside. He hoped Pete had a weapon himself.

            The two-car garage was already open, and it definitely wasn’t a good sign. Patrick crept in, clutching the hammer. Maybe the axe would’ve been a better choice to bring with him. A low moaning confirmed Patrick’s uneasy feeling, as a zombie ambled out of the shadows. Patrick backed out of the garage, deciding that he shouldn’t be messing with zombies now, but he saw exactly what he needed lying against the far wall. “Shit.” He sighed, preparing to attack the zombie.

            The zombie noticed him, and quickened its pace. Patrick grabbed the hammer with both hands and swung at the zombie. He missed by several inches. He continued backing up, praying that there weren’t any more creatures behind him. The zombie got closer again, and Patrick swung, this time hitting the zombie in the shoulder. “Come on. Just fucking die.” He said, swinging one final time. The hammer connected with the zombies head, crushing the skull with a sickening “crunch.” The zombie fell limp, and Patrick yanked the hammer back.

            “Take that.” He laughed, kicking the corpse. “Wow, what am I doing with my life?” It was a strange realization that killing the reanimated corpses of people, than kicking their dead-again bodies was now normal. Patrick shook the thought out of his mind, and grabbed the stack of 4 by 4s that he so desperately tried to find. He reentered the house, grinning wildly at his accomplishments.

            Pete was sitting in the kitchen, examining the pile of tools that Patrick had retrieved from the basement. “Nice haul.” He said, stirring a pot of beans.

            “You probably shouldn’t use all of the food in the can at once.” Patrick recommended. “There’s only so much food.” He laid the planks down by the tools.

            “Fuck you and your common sense.” Pete joked. “Do you need help fortifying castle Wentz?” He asked.    

            “1, probably not, and 2, we are definitely not calling it castle Wentz.”

            “Hey, I found the place.”

            “Whatever, I’m just going to put these up and then we can decide what to call it.” Patrick grabbed the wood as well as the bloody hammer and box of nails, and began to board the windows. He pressed the plank against the window, holding several nails between his teeth, and attempted to hammer it in.

            “You know, you’re really fucking hot when you do construction work.” Pete commented. Patrick rolled his eyes and continued to fortify the house. He was nearly done with the living room when Pete grabbed his butt and winked. “Nice butt.” He paused. “I mean work.”

            “I know my ass is lovely, but do you have to grab it?”

            Pete opened his mouth to answer, but he was laughing to hard to make any coherent sentences. “I’m glad I could entertain you.” Patrick grumbled.

            The clock on the oven read 1:43 by the time Patrick was finished. Pete had offered to stay up with him until he was finished, since Patrick kept denying the help. “This should hopefully keep out any intruders.” He said.

            “And keep us in.” Pete commented.

            “Nah. We can easily get out through the garage.” Patrick said, pointing to the door that led to the garage, and in turn led to the outside world.

            “You did a good job.” Pete said, knocking on the planks. A nail fell out of one, and Patrick gave Pete a sheepish look.

            “Good may not be the right word.”

            “I’m sure it’s fine.”

            “You want to go sleep now?” Patrick asked.

            “Definitely. Today was a long day.” Pete yawned. “I call the kids bedroom.”

            Patrick gave Pete a confused look. Why would he want a children’s bedroom when there was a huge master bedroom with a bathtub that could possibly double as a hot tub? “Master bedroom is mine then.” Patrick said. They both walked back upstairs, admiring Patrick’s work on every single window in the house.

            “I really hope this holds.” Patrick said before the went into their separate rooms. This place could be a game changer for them. They could spend the rest of their short, unlucky lives here. Patrick slept soundly that night.

            A loud banging echoed throughout the house, and Patrick jolted awake. It was probably just Pete fixing some of the less sturdy planks over the windows. Patrick began to walk back downstairs, when a frantic Pete burst through his bedroom door.

            “What the fuck is that?” He asked, a look of terror on his face.

            “Holy shit, that wasn’t you?” Patrick half-screamed. The two of them sprinted downstairs, only to be confronted by a fairly large group of people, all carrying weapons.         

            “Y’all did a pretty good job puttin’ this place together.” One of the men, presumably the leader of the group, commented. “But it wasn’t good enough to keep us out.” He laughed.

            “Hey, we were here first!” Pete shouted. “This place is ours.” Great, Pete was going to get the two of them killed. Patrick shifted nervously on his feet, debating whether or not to make a break for it.

            “Your funny kid.” The man spat. “See, this is a very nice place, and we plan on takin’ it.” A twisted smile crossed his face. “And we have guns, and you don’t.”

            “Ok, you can have it.” Patrick quickly said before Pete could open his mouth again. Pete looked at him like he was crazy.          

            “See, the short one has some common sense. Now, I’ll tell ya what, y’all can take your belongings and get the fuck out of here, and we won’t touch ya. Try anything, and I’ll blow your fucking heads off.” The rest of his group held up their weapons to show that they weren’t fucking around.

            “Ok.” Patrick told them. “All of our stuff is upstairs, we’ll just go get it and leave.” He promised, dragging Pete upstairs. He was well aware of the several pairs of eyes trained on their backs.

            “Are you crazy.” Pete asked in a hushed whisper.

            “No, I want to stay alive.”

            “We could’ve bargained with them!” Instead of replying, Patrick gave Pete an “are you fucking kidding me” look and grabbed his trusty hammer. Pete went back into the kid’s room, and emerged with his backpack and the cardboard box full of comics.

            “Let’s just go.” Patrick sighed, walking back downstairs.

            “Have a nice life.” The man said, tipping his cowboy hat. He took one look at Pete carrying the box, and grabbed it from his hands. Pete began to protest, but Patrick nudged him in the stomach. “Hmm, Superman, interesting.” The man looked over to one of the young kids in the group. “Now would you kindly get the fuck out?”

            Pete and Patrick left their “safe haven,” heading back out into the forest. Pete angrily muttered to himself, clearly upset about their loss. They had both accepted that they probably won’t make it much longer alive, but Pete took it pretty hard.

            “We’re going to be ok.” Patrick comforted, but he knew he was lying out of his ass.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Dear Dave,

The telephone lines are down so this is the only way I can think to get this message to you. I'm infected, the kids are infected, hell, even the dog is infected. The creatures, they broke into our home while you were out, killed the kids before I could kill them. They sure are tough. One got a chunk of my leg though. I'm not going to make it, and I don't want to become one of those things. I'm shooting myself before you come home and see me like this. I love you.

Yours forever, Maria

* * *

 

The constant dripping noise and the small chill was what made the cave that they had discovered unbearable. Unfortunately, no amount of complaining in Mikey’s part would convince Gerard to leave. “Who would ever look in a cave for people?” Gerard had reasoned. Mikey wanted to take this idea, and slap him across the face with it.

            “How much longer do we have to stay here?” Mikey asked, sounding very annoyed. He was pretty sure that Gerard didn’t even want to be here any more than he did, but Frank was determined to stay, and Gerard did whatever Frank said.

            “As long as we need to.” Gerard replied. He sat on the floor, cleaning down a samurai sword that they had found. Mikey opened his mouth to speak again, but there was no point in arguing with his brother, especially when Frank was involved.

            “Where did Frank go anyways?” He questioned, sitting down next to Gerard. He pulled his knees up to his chest and stared out at the vast expanse of land in front of them. The cave they had found was fairly high up on a mountain, and the view was incredible.

            “He should be around somewhere.” Gerard said, not paying much attention to what was going on around him.

            “I’m gonna go find him.” Mikey stood up and left, thankful to be out of the dark, dreary cave. They were living like fucking animals, and it wasn’t pleasant. Neither Frank nor Gerard had listened to his reasoning on why they should leave. For one, there was a _big fucking entrance_ that literally anything could easily get through. Two, it was fucking cold in there. It was the middle of summer in California, and the cave was -20º, or at least it felt like it.

            Before long, Mikey had located Frank. He was sitting on the ledge of the mountain, staring out into the wilderness. It was actually an incredible view. “Hey.” Mikey said before sitting down next to him, legs dangling over the edge.

            “Sup?” Frank asked. He kicked his legs back and forth, ignoring the perilous drop that lay bellow them.

            “Just chilling. I can’t stand that hellhole of a cave.” He said, hoping to convince Frank to leave it.

            “It’s not that bad.” Frank commented. He obviously couldn’t hear the wind blowing through it in the middle of the night. 

            “I mean it’s a fucking cave, but ok.” Mikey looked over at Frank, who had a dumb little smile on his face. It was almost like he was mocking Mikey. “Are you just staying here because Gerard wants to?”

            “Maybe.” Frank’s legs continued to kick his legs over the 100 foot drop. For what it was worth, the view was worth staying for, but the negatives outweighed it.     

            “He’s just staying because he thinks you want to.” Mikey informed him. Frank’s legs stopped moving and he just continued to stare out into the vast forest.

            “Are you serious?” He asked, turning to face Mikey.

            “It seems like I would be lying, but I promise I’m not.”

            “Then what the hell are we still doing here!? Let’s go! I don’t want to be here any more than you do!” Frank’s voice carried through the air and over the ground bellow them. Mikey laughed, fairly content with his success.

            “Go get Gerard then.” Mikey told him. Frank got up and ran back towards the cave, leaving Mikey alone. He remained on the ledge, looking out into the world. Far bellow him lay hundreds, maybe thousands of trees. A lake lay somewhere in the distance, surrounded by, guess what, even more trees. There were too many fucking trees, but at least everything looked pretty.

            There was a sharp snap of twigs behind Mikey, and he assumed it was Frank or Gerard coming to get him. “Are we gonna leave now?” He asked. Nobody answered him. “Guys?”

            A dull moaning caused Mikey to scramble away from the ledge and back towards the cave. “Shit shit shit shit.” Me muttered, staring at the hoard of zombies that emerged from the backwoods. He didn’t have any weapons near him, and dashed back for the cave.

            Frank and Gerard stared at Mikey, who was breathing heavily, once he returned to the cave. “Lot’s of zombies.” He said between breaths. “And I mean a lot.” The three of them grabbed whatever weapons they had with them and desperately tried to leave the area.

            Frank swung out at a zombie with an old butchers knife while Gerard frantically swing with his samurai sword. Mikey and Frank stayed a ways away from Gerard. Neither of them wanted their heads chopped off anytime soon. Mikey shakily aimed a crossbow, missing a zombie by several feet. He was sure that Frank would be laughing hysterically had they been in a different situation.

            “Forget killing them, let’s just get out of here!” Frank shouted to them. He knocked a zombie of the cliff, creating an area for them to run through.

            They didn’t get very far before Gerard tripped over an exposed tree root. Mikey and Frank stopped to help him, allowing the zombies to catch up. “Just go!” Gerard yelled.

            Frank and Mikey stared at Gerard. “Do you really think we’re going to leave you?” Mikey asked him. He hated the idea of even thinking about leaving Gerard behind anywhere.

            They spent several more seconds trying to get Gerard free, but now the zombies were on top of them. They still managed to keep several away with Gerard flailing around and Mikey badly missing one, but miraculously hitting another, but it wasn’t enough.

            The three of them had somehow split up with several following them. Mikey had lost sight of Frank and Gerard, and was instead trying to fight off the creatures following him. He slowly backed up away from the slowly moving zombies until his heel was halfway over the edge of the cliff.

            “Mikey! Move!” He heard Gerard shout from somewhere next to him. The zombies were still approaching, and he was down to his last arrow. Maybe he should’ve learned to use the thing before actually needing to shoot it.

            “I got this!” He called back to Gerard, praying that he would be telling the truth. He attempted shooting the last arrow, and miraculously hit one of the zombies, leaving only two of them left.

            Unfortunately for him, he had no other weapon. The wind blew against his back, reminding him of the perilous drop that lay just centimeters behind him. There wasn’t much to be done now, and Frank and Gerard were still busy fighting off the last of their zombies. Without thinking, Mikey threw his crossbow at one of the zombies heads, knocking the rotting flesh clean off. He dove past the other one, which was dangerously close to grabbing him, and watched it continue walking then tumble off the edge.

            He sat back towards the trees, trying to comprehend what had just happened. He must’ve been going insane, because Mikey started hysterically laughing. Soon, Frank joined him by the trees and began to laugh as well. “We killed them all!” Mikey remarked, still laughing. “They’re all dead!” Gerard just stared at them like they were insane. “They surrounded us and now they’re gone!”

            “Guys, I think we should go back to the cave for one more night. It’s getting dark and the only thing worse than dealing with zombies, is dealing with zombies at night.” Gerard suggested.

            Immediately, Frank and Mikey shouted, “No!” with panicked looks on their faces. It was apparent that no one had enjoyed living there, and they definitely didn’t want to go back to sleeping on a cold, rock floor.

            “What are we going to do then?” Gerard asked. It was clear that he wasn’t in the mood to fight off more zombies in an attempt to find better shelter.

            “What if we just set up a small camp here.” Frank suggested. “We’ll have a small fire and someone will keep watch while the others sleep. It’ll be just like the walking dead.” Frank gave them both a look of hopelessness.

            “That’s the second best idea I’ve heard all day.” Mikey said. Frank had a good plan, although more dangerous. As long as they stayed hidden in the trees and kept the fire low, they would probably be fine. Maybe.

            “I still think we should stay in the cave.” Gerard said, “But if this is what you guys think we should do, we might as well try it.” Frank and Mikey high-fived in success. “Well, do any of you know how to start a fire?” They all exchanged looks. No one knew.

            “This is what we get for never leaving our houses as teenagers.” Mikey sighed, recalling his anti-social way of life as a kid.

            “Didn’t you ever go on any religious camping trips in catholic school?” Gerard asked Frank. He said it half jokingly, but hoping that the answer would be yes.

            “Religious camping trips?” Frank laughed. “They taught me how to tie a tie, not how to build a fire in the middle of the fucking wilderness. Where the hell did you ever hear about religious camping trips?”

            “I don’t know. I thought catholic school would be like boy scouts or something.” Gerard tried to defend himself. Mikey burst out laughing, but quickly stopped. There was no need to attract more zombies.

            “Ok stand back.” Mikey said. “I’m going to try science.” Frank and Gerard practically ran behind the trees. “Ok, maybe people say that I’m the most likely person to stick a fork in a toaster to get bread out, but this can’t be _that_ bad.” He said, slightly annoyed at his friends. They came back out from the trees, but kept their distance.

            Mikey piled up several sticks that lay around. “If only we had an axe.” Mikey muttered, looking at Frank accusingly. When they had first started looting places for supplies, Frank had found an axe, but didn’t bother to talk it with him as, “we won’t need it.” Eventually, he had a respectable pile of sticks that Bear Grylls would be proud of. Now came the hard part, lighting it.

            “If you still had your glasses, you could use the sun to light it.” Gerard said.

            “Yes, what a shame I had my vision corrected so I could see properly.” Mikey said with very apparent sarcasm. “It would’ve been so worth it to not be able to see just so I could light a fire.”

            “No need to get rude.” Gerard said, smiling at his little brother. Mikey stuck his tongue out and continued to use 7th grade science glass to help him figure out how to light a fire.

            The only thing he remembered was rubbing two sticks together, and from every Saturday morning Disney sitcom he watched (god those were terrible), that never works. Although it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to take survival lessons from Disney shows. He grabbed two sticks from the pile and then watched as the whole thing collapsed. “I give up.” He said, kicking over the rest of the pile.

Mikey walked over to a tree and sat down against it. He started busying himself by pulling out the grass that surrounded him when he noticed the little flames over by Gerard and Frank. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He mumbled. “How the fuck did they do that?” He looked back over at his pile of sticks that were supposed to be a roaring fire, and then just gave up.

“Nice sticks you got there!” Frank called to him.

“You guys are assholes.” Mikey grumbled.

“At least we can build a fire. Now come over here and eat some dead rabbit.”

“You caught a rabbit too? How the hell did you manage that?”

“I’ve got mad skills.” Frank laughed, holding up the bunny carcass. It was nauseating, but food was food. Their lives truly were turning into the walking dead.

 

 


End file.
